This past weekend was my very first BlogHer and since I’ve been writing on this site for over three years now, I’ve come to *know* quite a few people. I’ve become very close with a gigantic mitt full of them making it even more surreal to have those people (and more) in the same room at the same time, talking face to face. There’s no other way to describe it other than completely surreal. I mean, you know all about them: their loves, their children, their hard times, their fears and to have never laid eyes on them until that meeting and know exactly who they are is pretty fuckin’ cool.

I can’t remember which night was which nor where I’ve ever had so much fun before.

Krystle (@snarkykisses), Moi and Miss Karen (@karensugarpants) at The Sparklecorn Extravaganza hosted by MamaPop.

photo lifted from Dove Clinical Protection Photo Booth @ MamaPopRocks Sparklecorn Extravaganza

I stayed up all hours of the night living off basic necessities like coffee, pop and free swag food – and free alcohol (DUH!). I think I had one staple meal the entire weekend.

I felt like I was in college again.

Totally hugging on The Michelin Man in the Expo

Totally crushed on people I’ve been reading FOREVER like the GORGEOUS and very sizzle Sizzle.

Me and Sizzle

And her? OMG HER. I would move to Florida and live in a cardboard box just to be with her all the time.

Me and Miss Britt

My Americus twin. I don’t know what more I can say about her besides she’s funny, GORGEOUS and so generous.

Angie and Me. Us. Forever.

Oh, and she likes my bewbs.

My Ali (@alimartell), Me and my Angie, bewb lover (@alotofnothing)

Wednesday night, our BlogHer Carpoolers‘ vehicle arrived. Chevy dropped off a beautiful 2010 Equinox which I immediately fell head over heels for. It’s an amazing drive which I totally pimped out the whole time (because I wanted to, not because they plied me with alcohol and free food). I think I may have even sold it to the gas station attendant I caught drooling all over the hood.

I arrived at Miss Karen Sugarpants‘ house where she greeted me at the door with a beer in hand. Which totally makes up for her calling me a twat. Then I spooned her and snored sweet nothings in her ear for about two hours before we got up and headed out on our eight hour drive to Chicago. Giddy like little high school girls we crossed the border into Americus blaring Britney Spears while Karen earned her new moniker @karengrannypants.

And America? Can you please talk to Target about opening their doors at 7:00am. Kthxbai.

Arrived in Chicago short on hearing (I think @karengrannypants forgot her hearing aid back home because the stereo was louder than loud and my ears were ringing for DAYS) where we met up with my twin, my stalker (WUUUUT?) (P.S. Fuckin’ LOVE her), Miss Shash and my dearest Avitable (Yes, I said dear). A warm welcome indeed.

After finding our room and cracking open our WalMart beer (I never thought I could love WalMart or America more) we met up with Mrs. Flinger (but don’t click that link because Ree has beaten Leslie’s server to a pulp and there’s nothing there.) in the hall as they stuffed bags for the Room 704 Party. Skype doesn’t do that woman justice people. Mrs. Flinger is all kindsa awesomesauce!

Thursday night has become a blur of FINALLY meeting my imaginary friends, parties and swag.

Seriously? What is this swag y’all are talking about? I’ve never even heard of swag. Swag gives me hives.

(If you haven’t listened to Dane Cook’s ‘The Nothing Fight’ then that will mean absolutely nothing to you, just carry on.. we’re walking… we’re walking…)

I know Craftastrophe won a weapon, I drank some beer and walked about six city blocks at 3 o’clock in the morning only to turn around and go back to the hotel.

I paid for a conference pass yet didn’t attend one panel. I’m not sad about that in the least. Because you know what? That conference pass was worth just being a part of those Community Keynotes (Can’t find a link to video at the moment, sorry!) and the Room of Your Own sessions. I stressed a little that I was wasting my money not attending them until that Community Keynote. Then I KNEW why I was there.

Friday night’s Nikon Cocktail Party was totally fabulous. Met some goreous women, and hung out with some of my favourite ladies while I contemplated approaching Carson Kressley but shied away from his lips critisism fame and watched from a distance.

Can I just tell you that party? So well put together, so much fun pretty well the highlight of the trip.

Or so I thought.

Because that was BEFORE I made it to the Sparklecorn Extravaganza.

Oh.

My.

Gah.

I didn’t even get any cake, just a giant unicorn leg of fondant icing.

Unicorn cake. OMFG.

picture from amysprite’s flickr. Go see. She’s AMAZING!

But like Karen said: The party was like a HUGE wedding without all the boring stuff.

And then I went all Gene Simmons on Mrs. Flinger.

So ya. That’s BlogHer.

Ahem.

Oh! And Casey. My dear sweet Casey.

Nothing but perfection.

Another amysprite pic.

________________________

Side Note:

I wanted to thank you all for your outpouring of support during our difficult time in The House of Me. I don’t think I’d be as sane right now if it weren’t for you. So thank you from the bottom of my cold, dark, shriveled heart.

I love you.

There are interviews being conducted with the children starting in two weeks. I haven’t decided if I should be there or just have Carter talked to someone without me there. I’m working through that at the moment.

We close on our new house TODAY. Our internet will be cut from this afternoon until the 11th of August so I have no idea when I’ll be checking in again. I’ll do my best to keep up with e-mails for The Business and I’ll be here and there when my addiction sees that it’s time to head to the nearest WiFi location.

<3

P.S. None of the photos are mine. I’ve stolen each and every one of them. There’s been NO time to download my camera. If you click the photo it will link you to its rightful owner.

I’ve failed.

I’ve failed my child.

I see the words, and before I can finish typing them, I feverishly delete as the lump builds in my throat and as I think about the notion of googlebots and searchers finding this site with those words and I just can’t bring myself to include them.

I can’t even fathom their truth. I can’t comprehend.

As a parent, we do our very best to protect our children. We try our damnedest to keep them from compromising situations, and hope that what we’ve done is enough to protect their innocence.

My dear beautiful 3 year old son has been – over the last month, in the care of someone I thought I trusted. Someone I felt comfortable with. Someone who has allegedly taken advantage of our trust as parents and allegedly committed a crime against a child under their care.

Someone whom my child has been alone with on many occasions.

I want to believe that these allegations are false. I pray for my son, for this person, that this situation is no more than a tale from a confused child, a misunderstanding.

There has been an investigation, charges have been laid. My hopes for a misunderstanding are fleeting.

I don’t know what to do at this point.

I feel sick.

I feel confused.

I feel sad.

I am lost.

We’ve discussed the situation with Carter and he’s pretty adamant that nothing’s happened to him. I can’t really say much more at this point because I just don’t know what there is to say.

I am in shock.

I have failed to protect my child.

I started this blog back in 2006. July to be exact. (Totally missed my three year blogoversary blogiversary blogaversary day I started this trainwreck beloved blog.) At that time, I was moseying about the interwebs and finding new sites to read and began seeing this “BlogHer” thing showing up everywhere and people getting REALLY REALLY excited about it.

I had no idea what the hell it was.

I figured: Geez. And here I thought message board people got really obsessive and crazy addicted, who the hell would go to a conference about blogging?!

Ahem.

Ya.

So.

Um.

ZOMG!!!1! BLOG HER!!

I’M GOING!!

*squeeeeeeee!*

Now that that’s out of the way.

I’ve fretted about clothes, shopping and appearance more in the past month than I had throughout my entire high school life, and then? I was so totally, like The Queen of Vanity.

Then I decided if you’re not going to talk to me or like me because I chose to wear clothes I’ve had in my closet for the past two years then that’s your loss.

HEAR THAT TIM GUNN?

YOUR. LOSS.

Then I decided just too appease the masses, and my self-consciousness, I shall hit up a Target for a dress, a cover-up and a cute pair of heels when I cross the border.

*sigh*

THEN I began thinking, OMG, no one’s going to like me. They all have their friends that they’ve met before at previous BlogHer events and I’m so going to be sitting at a table all alone watching others have fun. I’ll feel like the new girl while I have no one to talk to so I’ll busy myself with my iTouch – because no one has offered to help a girl out with an iPhone which makes me even more of a loser because now I’m a poseur with my iTouch and not an iPhone. OMG, the A-listers are so going to point and laugh at me. Suddenly I feel like I’m going to prom with a date two years my senior.

See.

I am my worst critic. I KNOW.

So do me a favour, if you recognize me? Please say hi.

If you don’t recognize me, not to worry. Here’s a picture:

If you’re going to be there, you can find me:

• Attending conference events
• Driving a beautiful brand new 2010 Chevy Equinox as part of the BlogHer Carpoolers (follow @temptingmama and #BlogHerCarpoolers on twitter for our lastest updates while we’re traveling to Chicago!)
• Being a faithful ambassador for Yummie Tummie
• At the Nikon party with Carson Kressley thanks to Miss Britt for letting mebe her tag along.
• Wearing Sorrelli jewelry (thanks to Angie!)
• Attending the hottest parties of the weekend (hopefully not as a wallflower)

If you’re NOT going to be there?

Head on over to @BlogHerAtHome. It’s a fabulous site created by my buds Nic and Jenn for those of you who are partying along at home. There’s giveaways (including a masthead design from Yours Truly) and a butt load of other goodies.

So Karen and I are working on amalgamating our design businesses into one. We’ve thought long and hard about the process and what we want to come of it, but being that we’re so far apart (distance wise) and on different schedules – as well as completely distracted by SHINY! – we haven’t had a chance to nail things down.

With Craftastrophe ad revenue and design fees, items are starting to get lost in the PayPal shuffle, and while we try diligently to align our funds and create a stable business model, our work related chats turn into a mess of laughter and utterly and completely off topic. Probably why we’ve been sitting on this daunting task for the past six months, but hey: at least we’re enjoying it!

me: Do we want to make a rate that we chard each other for graphics / coding?

*Instead of ‘drop the Cosby’s at the pool‘ we changed it to ‘drop The Gosselin’s at the pool’ during our LONG drive to the Boston BlogHer Reach Out Tour last fall.

My heart is heavy.

My mind is swirling.

My conscience is misguided.

I ache.

Sometimes I try too hard.

Sometimes not enough.

Sometimes my actions are perceived as thoughtful and friendly.

Sometimes my actions are mistaken for malicious or callous.

Sometimes I just screw up.

I try hard to be the person others want me to be.

I want to be someone others can count.

I want to be the one that people come to.

I want to be a problem solver.

I want to be a fixer.

I want to be everyone’s friend.

Sometimes I speak before I think.

Sometimes I react before I think it through.

Sometimes I have only my best intentions.

If only you could see into my heart.

If only you could see what my purpose is.

If only you were able to read my mind.

If only.

Now I wait.

Now I wonder.

Now I hope.

Now I plead.

I’ve been staring at the blinking cursor for days. It mocks me with each flicker of black; motionless yet unrelenting. It taunts me.

I don’t feel much like writing today, but I have to get something – anything – out to clear the dust from my mind. I used to keep a journal when I was growing up. I would write for hours about nothing and everything.

Sometimes those entries would turn into mountainous stories of untruths just for the sake of writing. I would elaborate anything and everything in hopes that someday they may become truths.
The Boy I crushed on would realize just how irresistible I really was and we would run away together. The girl I disliked would lose her hair and gain mounds of zits and everyone would hate her.

(Ya, I was shallow like that.)

I only wish that I had kept some of those embarrassing tales to re-read now. I’ve kept quite a few things, but for some reason, those stories – as well as MY stories – never remained. All I have now is what has been committed to memory where I can only hope they persist for a long time to come.

As years go by I’ve begun to feel a sense of obligation to my marriage in that holding on to some of the old keepsakes from past relationships seems as though I long for what I had as opposed to what I do have. When we moved from our apartment to our current home, I unearthed a box of mementos from a past relationship. When I raised the lid, I was flooded with emotions from my once high school romance.

There were old ticket stubs, bottle caps, letters and pictures. Items I hadn’t seen in a few years and some I had forgotten about completely. As I held up a bottle cap, a smile cross my face as I remembered why I had kept it in the first place.

Feelings crept back that I thought had long been buried. A longing for what once was, a passion for the past became too difficult to bare.

I threw out that box during that move.

I have nothing left of that time in my life which shaped me and made me who I am today.

And while we’re packing and purging, preparing for yet another – hopefully our last – move, I’ve been clinging helplessly to items which remind me of other past moments. Items which really hold no significant value except in six degrees of separation.

Mike’s long accused me of being a pack rat. He is not one to hold onto items that in some way remind him of a time in his past. He’s not a sentimental person at all, therefore, he can’t understand why I have hospital bracelets from the kids, or their first hats stowed away in my night table. He doesn’t comprehend how saving the paper from their birthdays is of any importance.

(Those are the important items I’ve kept, of course.)

To him, my need to hold on to parts of the past is a nuisance and a hindrance on moving forward.

I see it as reflection, a lifetime is a long time and one cannot be expected to commit it all solely to memory.

Because of that, I regret tossing the box of items which held the key to my high school relationship. It’s not that I’m longing for that time, or the fact that I miss it, but the memory of it is what’s important to me and I fear that in ten, or twenty years time I won’t remember anymore as bits and pieces have already been lost. Because of that I am finding myself needlessly clinging to items this time around.

Needless to say, in twenty years I may be owning self-storage units across the city as my children move throughout their life stages.

Look, at that. Guess I did have something to say afterall.

We all live in our own little worlds of which we chose to share bits and pieces when we have a personal blog such as this. Those little pieces are sometimes meld together by others who make assumptions based on an iota of information and believe them to be true. People make assumptions about another person whom they really know nothing about; they typecast them into little boxes to be labeled and filed away where they may or may not be used against that person again at a later date.

I am no different.

I have a tendency to go off half-cocked sometimes. I get frustrated and angry and I voice that anger.

Case in point: That Post Which I Will Not Link To In Hopes That It Will Die a Fast and Miserable Death.

It’s not one of my finer moments. I know that.

I do not take back what I wrote.

They are my words.

I said them and at the time I meant exactly what I said. Going back and reading That Post Which I Will Not Link To In Hopes That It Will Die a Fast and Miserable Death makes me cringe. I said some pretty shitty stuff.

Them are the breaks.

I can live with that.

They are my words whether I like it or not.

And maybe one day, if I’m lucky enough I’ll be eating them as I ‘work’ from my kitchen table.

Oh, the work quoting was a joke. No actually – a fucking joke. Now no hate in the comments please.

That shitty verbal diarrhea came from a cloud of anger and a feeling of being completely disregarded one of my most vulnerable times. Returning to work in order to buy our a home of our own has been a necessity which we’ve been working towards for many years. We live well within our means and have scrimped and saved to buy our family a home.

The shitty end of the deal? The people that know nothing of me except a link to a shitty post I wrote at a time of great displeasure and hurt. A time when I hadn’t come to terms with the fact that I am was miserable with my lot in life. A time when I hadn’t done anything about it but lash out at those around me. They have assumed (based on comments I’ve read here and elsewhere) that I am a money driven bitch coveting overpriced Electrolux appliances to go along with my lavish lifestyle which I’ve chosen over my children. That hurt more than I can even put into words.

My boys are my world.

Everything I do is for them. Everything.

Aside from that, I had put myself in a position where I’ve hurt a few people dear to me. Some have voiced their dislike, some have pretended not to be upset – though it’s quite obvious they are, and some have just walked away.

I haven’t figured out how I feel about that.

Maybe I deserve to lose some I thought were friends – after-all, they likely thought the same of me until I wrote That Post Which I Will Not Link To In Hopes That It Will Die a Fast and Miserable Death.

Then I think: well, what kind of friends are they really if they can just throw their hands up and walk away because of one shitty thing? Had it been a personal attack then sure I could see where they would be coming from, but – I just don’t know. I’m okay with their decisions because I’ve had enough bad friends in my life; someone who can just walk away like that is free to go.

But then: I don’t want them to go. I don’t do well with people thinking ill of me. I’d hate to think that in a moment of weakness I pushed away all those readers that vowed to never come back those people I considered friends.

*sigh*

I’m still obviously dealing with the aftermath of my verbal diarrhea.

Do they make Imodium for that?

________

* hierarchy of suffering is a post by Megan which I pimp out as much as I can. A post which I should read more often too. Obviously.

We move in 28 days. Twenty. Eight.

We went from just looking to owning a new home so fast that I think I’ve now began having cold feet. I’ve started panicking, thinking we can’t afford it, we didn’t think it through, we jumped in too fast. But when everything is said and done, I remember that I LOVE the house and the possibilities are endless once we save a little more for the renovations we have in mind.

With our enormous childcare bill each month, we’re now going to be in a tight financial bind for the next 12 months, but we knew that going in. It’s just a little daunting thinking that we’re putting out a HUGE portion of our income in childcare and mortgage costs alone.

Welcome to big city living.

I’m managing my house, my children, my job, the packing, the purging, the lawyers, the realtor, our bank, my business and I can’t seem to find enough time to do everything. I’m staying up later, getting up later (meaning narrowly being late for work each day) and lacking any semblance of normalcy at the moment.

Though I find it extremely nerve-racking, I am better at organizing, prioritizing and more productive. (Not that you could tell from the state of my house at the moment because HOLY. SHIT. it’s a mess.)

I’m stressed.

So stressed.

I worry, I over think, I compare, I am pessimistic and I can’t stand when Someone* is not doing as much as I think they should. I get upset and angry; I lash out at Someone when Someone comes home late from work even though I know Someones hands are tied. I know what the construction industry is like, yet I feel this resentment and anger that I am on the short end of the stick all the time.

(The next three paragraphs had turned into a woe is me rant about how hard done by I am so I erased them…everyone’s problems are significant to them and really? I have nothing to complain about at the moment. Things are on the up swing and we’re moving to a new house with a POOL!! I can’t complain. I’m just stressed and closing in on my capacity of handling things somewhat efficiently before I start dropping balls.)

((Moving day hasn’t even arrived yet.))

(((Or BlogHer.)))

((((When I asked Mike what he would take care of the weekend I was away at BlogHer he said “Well, I’m not packing or anything. I have two kids! How do you expect me to get anything done?”))))

(((((I replied with manic laughter.)))))

((((((He got mad at me.))))))

((((((Someone bring me some Xannax at BlogHer please?))))))

__________________________

*Someone who shall remain nameless because apparently I’ve been nagging and harping a lot. It doesn’t feel like nagging or harping when that person’s name is not associated with the nagging words so it’s better this way. Says I.